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Later, lying spent in his arms, she had asked him again where he took his rest, pouted when he refused to tell her. It wasn’t fair. She trusted him with her life. Why wouldn’t he trust her in return? Did he truly think she would betray him?
The thought made her frown. Had another woman betrayed him in the past?
She wondered about that as she showered, and again while she ate breakfast.
After doing the dishes, she felt the strangest urge to explore the turret rooms. To her disappointment, there was little to be seen. The two in front were empty. The third held a narrow cot and a wooden chair. A black iron cross adorned one wall. The fourth room had a bed, a chair, and a table. A tapestry that looked very old covered the far wall from the floor to the ceiling. The colors were faded, the edges frayed.
Head tilted to the side, she studied the tapestry. It depicted a knight in chain mail mounted on a rearing black charger. The knight wore a white surcoat emblazoned with a red cross. He held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.
Frowning, Kadie took a step closer. Was that . . . ? It was. It was Saintcrow!
Just looking at his image made her feel warm all over. He hadn’t changed at all in over nine hundred years. She ran her fingertips over the image, then pressed her hand to the cross painted on his surcoat. And heard a strange grinding sound, like stone moving against stone.
Curious, she moved to the edge of the tapestry, pulled it away from the wall, and peered behind it to see a narrow doorway. Filled with excitement and trepidation, she opened the door, revealing a long spiral staircase.
Was Saintcrow’s lair down there?
Did she really want to know?
She worried her lower lip with her teeth, then turned and ran down the stairs to the living room. She wasn’t going down into that dark tunnel without a light of some kind. Perhaps she could find a flashlight in town. If not, then she’d use a candle to light the way.
Kadie was sure she’d set some kind of record for driving to town and back when she returned to the house. Armed with the most powerful flashlight she could find, she ran up the stairs to the turret room, made her way cautiously down the spiral staircase behind the tapestry, then paused.
Was she making a mistake? Who knew what lay at the end of the tunnel? She suspected it might lead to Saintcrow’s lair, but what if it didn’t? What if that dark passageway led to a dungeon filled with skeletons, or worse, living prisoners who had displeased the master vampire? What if it was filled with bags of blood? Or bags of gold? That might not be as far-fetched as it sounded, she thought. He drove an expensive car. He paid for food and drink for all the people who lived in Morgan Creek, as well as the utility bills for his house, and the rest of the town.
Driven by a need to know what he was hiding, Kadie moved slowly, quietly, down the tunnel. It was eerie, moving through the darkness with only a flashlight to illuminate the way. Her footsteps sounded very loud in the silence that surrounded her.
The tunnel went on and on, straight as an arrow.
Overcome by an unexpected bout of claustrophobia, she came to an abrupt halt, suddenly certain that the tunnel extended far beyond the house.
Forward or back? Which way should she go? She took a step forward, then turned on her heel and started back, only to pause again. She had come this far; why not go on?
Tamping down her fear that the tunnel would collapse, trapping her beneath tons of earth, she hurried forward. To her surprise, the tunnel ended at another door after a few yards.
She ran the light over the door. It was made of oak, crisscrossed with iron straps. There was no lock. No handle. Placing her hand in the center of the wood, she gave it a push. Nothing happened.
Chewing on her thumbnail, she focused the light on the door again. There had to be some way to open it. Starting at the top right corner, she ran her hand over the entire door, then along the lintel and the sides. Nothing happened.
With a sigh of defeat, she made her way back to the staircase, only to find that the door she had come through was no longer open.
She pushed it. She kicked it. She beat on it with her fists until her hands ached and her knuckles were swollen and bloody. But the door refused to budge.
Alarm quickly turned to panic. What if this didn’t lead to Saintcrow’s lair? What if it led to some long-abandoned storeroom and no one ever came down here?
Her stomach churned with horror.
She was trapped in the tunnel with nothing but a flashlight.
And no one in Morgan Creek knew where she was.
Chapter 19
Saintcrow woke with the setting of the sun. For a time, he remained in bed, thinking about Kadie and the night they had shared. It still amazed him that, after over nine hundred years, he had found a woman who pleased him in every way, a woman who was rapidly becoming far too important to him.
Her scent lingered on his skin, reminding him of the intimacies they had shared. He felt a brief twinge of guilt for taking her virginity. He had done a great many things he regretted, but it had been a matter of pride with him that no matter what other atrocities he had committed, he had never defiled a woman nor killed a child. To ease his conscience, he reminded himself that he hadn’t taken Kadie against her will. Far from it. She had been all too willing.
Jackknifing into a sitting position, he raked his fingers through his hair, then opened his senses, homing in on his blood link to her.
He felt her terror as if it was his own. She was trapped in the tunnel, had been trapped there, in the dark, for hours.
Not bothering to dress, he left his lair with all the speed at his command. Seconds later, he was at her side.
“Kadie, I’m here.”
“Rylan!” She collapsed against him, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
“It’s all right now,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “I’ve got you.” A thought opened the door behind the tapestry, another carried the two of them into the living room, a third lit a fire in the hearth.
He sat on the sofa, holding her against his chest, cradling her head on his shoulder. The scent of her blood teased his nostrils. Taking her hands in his, he licked the blood from her knuckles, sealing the wounds, then whispered words of comfort in her ear until her trembling stopped.
“Thank you for coming after me.”
“Did you find what you were looking for, Pandora?” he asked.
“You know I didn’t.”
“Are you so determined to see where I sleep?”
“I’m sorry. I should have respected your privacy,” she said, “even if you don’t respect mine.”
“Touché, milady. But if you decide to explore down there again, you need to know that once you step through the door behind the tapestry, it closes automatically. You can’t open it from my side.”
